Hidden File Application
by Canadian Crow
Summary: He thought he'd escaped, but no one ever really walks away. Part Two of the Hidden File Trilogy.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: 'Chuck' and all it's affiliated characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. This fiction is written for entertainment only.

No profit was made.

A/N: This is the sequel to 'Hidden File Command', so I'd suggest reading that first, or you're not gonna know what the hell is going on.

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The morning of May 17th was cool in Colorado Springs. The snow that had covered the ground all winter was gone, although the surrounding mountain peaks still clung to the last vestiges of the winter snowfall.

Whistling the last song she'd heard before leaving home, Suzanne Holmes was going through the familiar routine of getting her shop, Byte Me Computers, open for the day's business. When she'd opened the place three years prior, her mother had told her she was starting a money pit, suggesting she go with a safer route...like getting married. Suzanne had chosen to respond by way of her shop's name, and then proceeded to enjoy three years of tremendously satisfying success.

Looking up at the sound of the bell over the door, she smiled at her friend and employee Simon Washburn. The young man grinned back. "Morning, Suzie!"

She winced at the volume of his greeting, and pointed at her ears to indicate that he should remove his headphones before saying anything more.

Sheepishly pulling the earbuds out, he repeated himself in a quieter voice, and made his way to the employee bathroom/locker room.

An avid cyclist, Suzanne's first major alteration to the property was to have a contractor put a small locker room and shower in the back. When she hired Simon, who turned out to be devoted runner, and Lucy Devlin, a fan of both yoga and computer programming, she took it as a sign she'd made the right decision.

Her musings were interrupted when Lucy herself came wandering in, an extra large coffee clutched in her hands. Chirping a greeting to her boss, she wandered toward to her small workspace behind the counter.

Just another day.

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Hidden File Application

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As if on cue, Simon emerged from the back, showered and ready to go. Running a hand through his short, spiky hair, he gazed woefully at the stack of repair jobs before him.

Lucy appeared beside him as if by magic. "Mornin' Simon."

"Christ!" Simon cried, whirling around. "Don't do that!"

"I'll stop doing it when you stop shrieking." Lucy chuckled. "And by the way, I finished up that backlog of format jobs for you. You now owe be lunch. Forever."

He rolled his eyes. "I'll spring for lunch today. We'll talk about tomorrow, tomorrow."

"Hmn." Lucy smirked. "We'll see."

Shaking his head as she left, Simon sat down and fired up his laptop. As it booted, he occupied himself by picking through the various computer parts scattered across his desk. As much as he wished otherwise, he was a habitual packrat and could rarely bring himself to throw such parts away. Whenever a customer didn't want an old part back, Simon was the first to grab it and try to return it to its former function.

Suzanne asked why he didn't just toss them out, and his usual answer was that everything had a use, sooner or later.

Oddly enough, most of his successfully restored parts seemed to end up being shipped to the Los Angeles area. All Simon would say is that he had a totally legit buyer there, and since Suzanne got 15% of the sales, she didn't mind one bit.

As his computer finished starting up, he opened his e-mail inbox. Generally speaking, the only e-mails he got were from a few online subscriptions, and occasionally something from the online message boards he frequented. His few friends saw him so frequently that e-mailing him was largely redundant.

Today, however, he had e-mail from an unfamiliar address (BrotherLazurus) on a generic mail server. It looked bogus, but something told Simon it wasn't junk.

Opening it, he skimmed the contents quickly, and his heart stopped cold.

####

_Hey there Washburn,_

_You're not that hard to find, for a guy who knows how to look. Lucky for you, I'm the only one who knows how to look._

_You wanted a change of scenery, and I get that. Don't worry, I won't tell. I never wanted you to take that job in the first place._

_You ought to know something, though. Remember those guys we were working for last year? They invited that cute doctor you were rooming with to work for them. The way they put it, she couldn't say no. I guess they're hoping you'll see the light and accept their offer._

_Anyhoo, if you're interested, I can forward the pertinent info to you anytime._

_By the way, you ought to open an account on this server. It's great. No spam and totally spyware free._

_Enjoy the mountains._

_Your bro,_

_Bruce_

_PS – It wouldn't kill you to look up Goldilocks sometime. She's in Seattle, and she misses you. I've attached her e-mail._

####

"Bryce fucking Larkin." Simon whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. "Son of a bitch."

"You say something, Simon?" Lucy asked, glancing up.

"No. Nothing." Peering at the screen, he felt the panic creeping up in his gut. Stealing a glance over his shoulder, he figured he could make it to the door in four seconds.

But then what? If he believed this message, either the CIA or NSA had Ellie. He couldn't leave her.

_OK_, He thought, taking a slow breath. _Bryce knows who and where you are. If this were a trap, you'd already be dead._

Six months ago, he'd escaped certain death at the hands of the CIA. He'd drugged his handlers and left LA that very night, hitchhiking his way to Colorado. He'd managed score a halfway decent fake ID in Denver, before moving on to Colorado Springs. He'd only been planning on staying a couple of weeks, but after Suzanne hired him, he ended up settling into a happy, if slightly dysfunctional, life.

He'd never relaxed, though. He didn't own a cell phone, or access the internet from his apartment. He had emergency bags both at home and at work with cash, different IDs, and a change of clothes. And he carried Sarah's M1911 everywhere he went. Hidden, of course.

His friends here never saw it. They all saw a friendly, affable guy. But there wasn't a moment that passed when he wasn't on guard. Everywhere he went he was always looking for the nearest exit. It was paranoid, and he knew it. But with both the CIA and NSA hunting him, the time could easily come that it kept him alive.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he calmly closed his laptop and placed it in a backpack he pulled from the corner. He'd stayed here too long anyway, gotten too comfortable. It was time to move on.

He rose from his seat and moved unhurriedly to the front door.

"Hey Suzie." He called back, as his hand came to rest on the door handle. "Going out on a repair call."

"Okay." Suzanne replied distractedly, as she shuffled several piles of paperwork around her desk. "See you later."

Simon...Chuck...smiled sadly, but didn't answer as he left the shop.

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Sitting in a Greyhound station in Denver, Chuck peered at the Driver's licence in his hand. Simon Washburn had some good times, but now he had to go. Pulling out a lighter, he melted the ID, and tossed it into the trash.

Pulling out his laptop, he opened the e-mail he'd saved and reread it twice, weighing his options. Bryce had done a lot of things to him, but he couldn't believe that his old roommate would try to get him killed. If anything, in his own twisted way, Bryce had always looked out for him.

And now he was trying to help Chuck to save Ellie, apparently.

Sighing, he looked up at the departures board. 09:30 to Los Angeles or the 10:15 to Seattle. Ellie or Sarah.

_Crap_. He thought numbly, coming to a decision.

Logging on to the bus station's wireless network, he opened his new online e-mail account, and sent off two messages.

####

_To: BrotherLazurus[at]shadowmail_

_From: Leafonthewind[at]shadowmail_

_I'm in. Send the info._

_I'll call Goldilocks._

_,Washburn_

_####_

_To: Sexyninja332[at]hotmail_

_From: Leafonthewind[at]shadowmail_

_Nice e-mail addy, Sarah._

_It turns out the excrement has hit the rotary oscillator and I need help. Bruce says you're cool, so I'm gonna trust you._

_I'll meet you in the Seattle bus station 48 hrs from now. Stand by the ticket window._

_No flash photography. I see a flash and I'm gone. No second chances._

_By the way... I've missed you too._

_,Your Geek_

_####_

Hitting the send button, he closed his computer and made his way to the ticket booth. On the way he reached into his pocket and produced a Kansas ID under the name of William Thrace. Chuckling, he purchased his ticket to Seattle. "I should've known that getaway was way too easy."

But he could think about that on the way. Right now he had a bus to catch, and a long ride ahead.

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End Part 1


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: 'Chuck' and all it's affiliated characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. This fiction is written for entertainment only.

No profit was made. Just FYI.

**Author's Note:** _**I would like to stress that this storyline is an AU, branching off from the end of the First Season. I'm reasonably certain most of you had figured that out, but in every crowd, there's always someone who starts ranting about continuity. So now that I've said it, we can all carry on.**_

_**Thank you.**_

_**,CC**_

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The afternoon of May 19th was unseasonably cold for Seattle, much like the morning that came before it. The rain clouds hung low in the sky, serving only to depress the locals who'd already dealt with a cold Pacific winter.

Outside a nondescript downtown building, a young woman hurried for the door, clutching an umbrella in one hand, and a sandwich from a nearby deli in the other. Entering the lobby, she made her way into the elevator and pushed the button for the basement with a slight frown.

Arriving at the bottom floor, she moved unhurriedly down the poorly lit hallway, and unlocked a door near the end. Flicking on the light, she pulled off her knit cap to reveal her long locks of blonde hair, only slightly damp from the rain.

Hanging her coat by the door, Sarah peered mournfully at the piles of paperwork cluttering her desk, which in turn occupied a small corner in a small basement office of the Seattle CIA field station. Despite her efforts, it seemed even bigger than when she'd left for lunch.

Sometimes she'd try to pretend that it was vitally important intelligence, rather than office furniture requisitions. Or applications for extra sick days. Or documentation regarding office dress guidelines.

Anything but the mindless red tape that seemed to pile endlessly in her inbox, day after day. But on days like today, even her finely tuned mind couldn't pry her from the reality of her situation.

But then, considering she'd personally _lost_ the single largest intelligence database in the world, she was actually lucky she got off as easily as she had. Only her positively shining service record, and a grudgingly positive word or two from the CIA Directorate, had kept her from spending the rest of her career scrubbing toilets at Guantanimo Bay.

_Lucky me_, she thought as she skimmed over the contents of yet another office budget review, and reached for the box of tissues behind her.

Just six months ago, she'd been the CIA handler to Charles Irving Bartowski, a Buy More employee from Los Angeles who happened to have the Intersect database downloaded into his brain.

For over a year she and her NSA partner, Major John Casey, had worked with Chuck to save countless lives in the Greater LA area, but those six months ago something had changed. The Intersect had started to affect Chuck in a most unexpected way. It started teaching him things, from surgical procedures to CIA combat techniques.

Fearing they'd lose control of the young man, the CIA had ordered Chuck's death. And Sarah was to be his executioner.

After that, the official story took a sharp left turn from reality. On the record, Chuck managed to drug Casey and herself and escape Los Angeles, falling completely off the grid. Pure incompetence on her part, as far as the CIA was concerned, and she wasn't in any rush to correct them.

In reality, Chuck had only managed to drug Casey. She'd been lucid enough to stop him, had she been so inclined. Instead, she'd hammered back a Ketamine-laced soft drink, and told Chuck to run.

Because that's what you do for the people you love.

Of course, the CIA and NSA had been less than amused when two of their agents were found unconscious the next morning. By their asset's sister, no less.

There had been inquests, investigations, and even a Congressional Oversight hearing. And when it was all over, so were their careers. Casey was shipped out to an I-COM listening post in Central Montana, and Sarah was stuffed, literally, in the CIA's basement.

Seattle wasn't the worst place ever, but after spending the bulk of her career in places ranging from Los Angeles to the Middle East, a winter in the cold, wet climate of the Pacific Northwest had left her with what felt like a permanent cold.

And to add insult to injury, they'd revoked her undercover operative status and downgraded her to an analyst. She was given back her birth name, Elizabeth Reynolds, and lost the right to carry a sidearm.

But what upset her most was that at her new (and significantly lower) security clearance level, even if the CIA did catch Chuck, she'd never even know. For all she knew, he'd been dead six months and buried in a landfill somewhere.

Sighing, she turned her slightly old computer on and logged on to her Hotmail account. She hadn't checked it in a couple of days, and maybe her Mom had sent her a reply about her sister's birthday next month.

Eyes skimming the newest messages, she reached for another tissue. Her hand froze when she came to an eerily familiar address.

"Leaf on the wind?" She muttered to herself, trying to remember where she'd heard that phrase before.

Opening the e-mail, she read the first line and promptly stopped breathing.

_No..._ She thought, _It couldn't be..._

But even as she finished the thought, she had finished the e-mail. Her heart thundered in her chest as she tried to catch her breath. He was alive! And he was coming to see her!

Glancing at the piles of paperwork, she considered her options a moment, before a slow smile spread over her features. Picking up the phone, she dialled her supervisor's number. Faking a sore throat, she managed to convince him she was too sick to work.

Then, grabbing her coat, she locked her office, and practically bolted from the building. Her meeting time with Chuck was in about five hours, and she wanted time to get home and make herself look like something other than an office drone.

Grinning like a manic, she flagged down the first cab she saw, leaped in, fired off her address, and tossed the driver a hundred dollar bill. "Go!"

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Stepping down from the bus, Chuck took a moment to stretch the kinks out of his back before casting his eyes around the Seattle Greyhound station. There wasn't much to look at, really, but that was just as well. Less to see meant fewer things to watch.

Running his hand through his shortened hair, he hefted his backpack onto one shoulder, and made his way to a bench in the corner. Taking a baseball cap from his pocket, he pulled it low over his eyes. Sitting down, he opened his laptop, and amused himself with a program he'd been writing while he waited for Sarah.

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Standing outside the Bus Station doors, Sarah peered inside nervously. By her guess, Chuck had probably arrived over an hour ago. Accordingly, she'd been standing out on the sidewalk for almost as long, trying to work up the courage to walk in.

She'd come rushing from her apartment earlier, full of excitement, but as soon as she arrived, she'd been struck by a sudden wave of uncertainty. What if Chuck wasn't there? What if he didn't really want to see her? What if it was a trap, and the moment she walked in she'd be arrested and sent away forever?

Taking a deep breath, she gave her head a shake. This was ridiculous. She used to be the CIA's top deep cover operative. She had no excuse to be acting like a schoolgirl.

Squaring her shoulders, she made her way into the station.

The small building wasn't overly crowded, but there were still enough people that she didn't spot Chuck right away. Glancing around, she unconsciously picked at the hem on her shirt.

And then suddenly, there he was. Sitting in a corner, typing away on a laptop, and completely oblivious to her watching him. On instinct, Sarah slid to one side and half hid behind the ticket counter, just out of his line of sight.

She took a moment to study the changes the last six months had brought about. For the most part, he looked about the same. Maybe a little more muscle definition, and a little less unneeded weight...but that was all, really. He was still the same lanky, geeky, and oddly attractive man she'd known half a year ago.

Against her will, her stomach did a little flip, her earlier nervousness making an unwelcome reappearance. She quashed the feeling, however, and turned slightly to check her reflection in a nearby window.

Satisfied that she looked suitably stunning, she gave her hair a small flick and walked over to where Chuck was sitting.

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Chuck was just finishing up a rather troublesome line of code, when he got the distinct feeling he was being watched. Rather than panic, he calmly continued typing, acting as if he hadn't noticed a thing.

Then, as subtly as he could manage, he casually glanced up to observe the people around him.

Only he couldn't see the people around him, because someone, specifically a woman, was standing right in front of him. Slowly, his eyes trailed upwards, over a beautiful, if somewhat familiar, female figure. Finally, he reached her face, and was rewarded with the sight of Sarah Walker, smirking down at him.

"Not interrupting anything, am I?" She asked sweetly, the smile on her face growing.

Chuck had planned the moment he saw her again many times, envisioning the ways he would sweep her off her feet. What he hadn't planned was sitting there stupidly, gaping like a learning-impaired fish.

"I..." He started to say. "Umm..."

She raised an eyebrow slowly.

"Oh, screw it." He muttered, rising swiftly to his feet and taking her into his arms. She barely had time to utter a soft gasp of surprise before he kissed her, his lips lingering sweetly on her own.

After a long moment they separated, though their eyes maintained the connection. Then, unexpectedly, Sarah hauled off and punched Chuck in the shoulder with as much force as she could muster.

"Ow!" He cried indignantly. "What the hell, Sarah!?"

"I may be happy to see you," She informed him, taking a small step back, and placing her hands on her hips. "But you still aren't off the hook for that little stunt in LA."

Chuck gawked at her. "What? I thought you guys were gonna kill..."

Sarah reached up to cover his mouth. "Public place, Chuck. Ixnay on the illkay, okay?"

He nodded slowly, and she removed her hand. Smiling, he caught her had on the way down, and led her out onto the street. Running to keep out of the rain, they hopped into the nearest cab, and headed off into the city.

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"Where are we going?" Chuck asked, at last. In the last two hours, the two of them had changed cabs three times, ridden two city buses, and walked several blocks in no discernible pattern. "I mean, I'm all for exploring, but I like to have a destination in mind."

"Oh, hush you." Sarah chided him. "We're almost there."

Shrugging, Chuck followed her obediently. After another five minutes, they came to an old brownstone. Sarah led him quietly around back, and up the fire escape. On the third floor, she produced a key, unlocked the window, and climbed in.

From the window, Chuck peered in. "So, whose place is this?"

"Mine, sort of." Sarah responded from the darkness. "It's a little place I set up off the books. Just in case things go sour."

"Sour?" He asked, incredulous. "Sour how?"

"I don't know." She fired back. "If I know what might happen before it did, I wouldn't need a secret safe house, now would I? And given our present circumstances, it doesn't seem all that crazy, does it?"

"Fair point." Chuck admitted as he followed her into the darkened apartment, trying and failing not to bark his shin on every piece of furniture in his path. "Ow, ow, ow..."

Suddenly the room lit up, and Chuck looked over to see Sarah, standing next to the light switch, laughing silently.

Smirking, he made a show of dancing around the couch toward her. Then he leaped over an end table.

Laughing out loud now, Sarah gave him a slow applause. "Very nice, Mr. Bartowski."

"Thank you, thank you." He gave a little bow, and then stepped forward and took her into his arm. "I missed you, Sarah."

Her heart melted at the look on his face. "I missed you, too."

He grinned, leaning in to kiss her. She laid a hand on his chest, halting him. "But you said in your e-mail you needed help."

"Yeah...The CIA has Ellie." Chuck explained after a moment, his happy expression fading. "I got word from Bryce, though don't ask how he found me, that they were holding her to flush me out."

Sarah let out a soft gasp, her expression upset.

"So the plan is," He continued. "We go to California, break into the place they're holding her in, get her out, and vanish once more into the sunset."

After a beat, Sarah had to ask. "That's it? That's your plan?"

"Well, I admit it's not exactly...refined, but I'm still working on it." He granted her. "Besides, I've got you now, and Bryce meeting us in LA. I've been reliably informed that you two are pretty good at all this spy stuff."

Sarah didn't say anything for a long minute, and then she shook her head. "You are certifiable, you know that?"

"Yup."

Laughing softly again, she stepped back from his embrace, walking into the next room.

"Where are you going?" He called after her.

"To pack." She answered shortly. "I assume we leave tomorrow?"

"Yeah." He confirmed. "I've already got the tickets booked. Ten AM tomorrow morning."

"Hmm..." Her voice carried in from the next room. "That's about fourteen hours from now, right?"

"Yeah." Chuck repeated.

"Half an hour to pack, and hour to have some dinner. Half an hour to get ready in the morning, and we should leave two hours before the flight." Sarah came back around the corner, her blouse unbuttoned and a sultry smile dancing over her face. "How ever will we pass the rest of our time?"

He started forward, but she raised her hand to stop him, smile still in place. "Ah, ah, ah. Dinner first. You cook, I'll pack."

Laughing, Chuck practically leaped toward the kitchen. He threw together the quickest meal he could with what was there. Then Sarah came out in a silk camisole, and conscious thought became an unnecessary matter.

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"This has got to be the worst idea in the history of bad ideas." Sarah muttered as she stretched out under the covers, noting the very late (or early) hour on the bedside clock. "We can't just walk into a secure CIA holding facility."

Chuck nodded silently, fingers trailing lazy patterns on the bare skin of her back.

"And even if we do get in, we're still probably screwed." Sarah carried on. "Because if there's one thing these places are better at than keeping people out, it's keeping people in."

"Mm-hm." He responded quietly.

"And that's even if we...we..." She turned to glare at him, though her smile did little to convey her annoyance. "Would you cut that out! I'm trying to be sensible here, and you're not making it easy to focus."

Instantly, Chuck's face became the picture of innocence. "Cut what out?"

Rolling her eyes, she curled up next to him, wrapping her arm around his waist. "Okay, smart-guy. Let's get some sleep. We have to be at the airport in a few hours, and if I'm gonna be arrested, it won't be with bags under my eyes."

Laughing, Chuck kissed her softly, and pressed their bodies together. Reaching over to turn of the light, he whispered in her ear. "We can sleep later, Sarah."

Sarah's only response was lost as a faint moan.

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The next morning, a cab like any other pulled up to the departures wing of Sea-Tac International Airport. The young couple inside seemed unworried and calm, their faces betraying nothing of the storm of anxiety that lay beneath.

Climbing out of the cab, Chuck and Sarah calmly walked into the terminal. A nearby police officer eyed them for a moment, before smiling and nodding to them. As he passed, Chuck could feel Sarah tense against his side. A moment later, they were in the clear.

"You have our ID's?" Sarah asked, letting out the breath she'd been holding.

Relaxing, he grinned and handed over the passports.

She smiled back, and opened the small booklets. Then she just about burst out laughing. In her hands was a pair of Canadian passports under the names Kyle Reese and Sarah Conner.

"Oh my God," She laughed. "You...are a nerd."

"Guilty as charged." He smirked, tossing an arm around her shoulders, and laying a kiss on her head. "Let's head out."

Laughing, the two of them made their way to the check-in desk, through security, and onto their flight without a problem, all the while praying the rest of this ridiculously insane endeavour went just as smoothly.

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End Part 2


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: 'Chuck' and all it's affiliated characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. This fiction is written for entertainment only.

No profit was made. Just FYI.

**Authors Note:**_**I'd like to take a moment and thank everyone for their reviews, and for the outpouring of goodwill I've received, vis a vis my time in Afghanistan. You guy rock out loud. **_

_**And now, albeit a little later than I'd hoped, on with the show...**_

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It never ceased to amaze Chuck; the way people seemed to disappear into their own little worlds on any kind of mass transit. You could take the most outgoing person in the world, he figured, and the moment they were on a bus or plane they'd probably opt to read a book, or even just go to sleep.

Amused at the thought, Chuck cast his eyes to one side, where Sarah was fast asleep herself. Despite the short flight time, almost as soon as the plane had taken off she'd been out like a light, and Chuck had been forced to keep himself entertained. Not that he'd gotten any more sleep that her the night before, but she was used to this kind of thing, and the prospect of walking right into a CIA facility had him a little wired.

Chuckling, he arranged his complementary peanuts into yet another semi-artistic pattern on the tray table. He was just mulling the idea of asking for another packet when the intercom piped up.

"Ladies & gentlemen, we are now beginning our approach on Los Angeles International Airport." The flight attendant droned from the front of the plane, a bored expression on her face. "Please return your seat backs and tray tables to their upright & locked position, fasten your seatbelts, and prepare for landing."

Sweeping his peanuts into a paper cup, he gently nudged Sarah awake. Her only response was to mutter something unintelligible and attempt to burrow deeper into his shoulder. Rolling his eyes, he reached over and did up her seatbelt for her.

Turning to look out the window, he couldn't help the small pang of homesickness that struck him, when he saw the LA skyline again after so long. Had it really only been six months?

As the plane touched down, Sarah awoke with a start, groaned slightly, and rubbed her eyes. "Mmm...How long was I out?"

"Pretty much the whole flight."

"Great." She muttered. "But we're here now?"

"We're here now."

"Great." She repeated.

Shortly thereafter, the plane reached its gate, and the two of them walked out onto the LAX concourse. They hadn't checked any baggage, so only a moment later they were at the Hertz desk.

After a brief argument about rental options (wherein Sarah convinced Chuck that renting a Corvette was just a little too conspicuous) they were out of the airport and headed to the next stop on their journey.

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"What are we doing here?" Sarah asked as they walked into a Kinko's store.

"Just picking up a little something I had sent from Denver." Chuck replied mysteriously. "God bless FedEx."

Approaching the FedEx desk, he spent a moment rummaging through his backpack. Then, smiling to the girl behind the counter, he produced a shipping receipt and handed it to her.

"Hi there." He chirped. "I'm here to pick up a package for Bill Thrace."

The girl, whose nametag said 'Brittany' and didn't look much older than eighteen, looked at him dubiously. "Uh, sir. This shipping receipt says the package is for _William _Thrace, not Bill."

Both Chuck and Sarah stood shocked for a moment, as their eyebrows crept slowly up their foreheads.

After a moment, Chuck once more found the ability to speak. "You're kidding, right?"

Brittany adopted a particularly smug expression. "Sir, if you're gonna try to scam a package with someone else's receipt, at least get the name right."

"...oh my god." He muttered, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose, as Sarah tried to hold in her laughter.

Taking a few deep breaths, he calmly asked Brittany to get her manager. The girl refused, saying that he was on break, and crossing her arms in that petulant manner mastered by teenagers everywhere.

Just as Chuck looked like he was getting ready to blow a blood vessel, Sarah intervened. She took him by the shoulders, gently guided him away from the desk, and calmly asked him to go over to the Internet stations and check for any e-mail's from Bryce.

Then, taking his William Thrace ID, she went back to the FedEx desk and prepared to do battle with the forces of mediocrity.

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Half an hour later, when they finally emerged from the Kinko's, Chuck had calmed down considerably. The package they'd come for was under one arm, and the other was slowly rubbing circles on Sarah's back.

Sarah, on the other hand, looked downright apoplectic. Her attempts to be calm and reasonable had failed, and as time had worn on, the demon known as Brittany had only grown more stubborn.

This was a _secure_ package.

She couldn't release it to just _anybody_.

Finally, her manager had returned from his lunch, and from there the situation took about thirty seconds to sort out. ID was presented, Chuck was summoned back to provide his 'signature', and they were out of there.

Though deep down, they were pretty certain they'd left a part of their souls behind.

"This had better be worth it." Sarah practically hissed, eyeing the box Chuck carried.

"Oh, I think you'll be pretty happy with it." He smiled, opening the car door for her. Then he walked around to the driver's side and climbed in. Smiling, he pulled the opening strip off the box and plunged one hand into the small sea of packing peanuts within.

"Close your eyes." He told her.

Sighing, she grudgingly complied. She heard a faint rustle, and a moment later a familiar weight settled into her hands. Cracking one eye a little, she let out a gasp of shock. Sitting in her hand was the Colt M1911 she'd given up as lost. "Omigod!"

"You like?" He asked with a smirk, handing her a pair of clips, a concealment holster, and a box of .45 ammo.

"I thought it was gone." She exclaimed.

"Nope." He replied. "Had it by my side the whole time."

"Chuck." She turned to face him. "Thank you. Really."

He shrugged. "Well, it's not my letter jacket or anything."

She gave him a smouldering gaze. "Does that mean you don't want to go steady, then?"

"I...err..." Chuck stammered, the look in her eyes making it difficult to focus.

She held his eyes for another second, before mercifully letting him go. "Anything else in there?"

He nodded. "Since I was giving the .45 back to you, I figured I'd need a replacement. Wouldn't want all those range hours going to waste, would I?"

She crooked an eyebrow at him.

Giving her a crooked smile, he pulled out his own weapon, a Walther P99 .40 pistol. "It's small, but it's scrappy."

"Is that right?"

"Yep." He affirmed. "Good modern design, great stopping power, concealable, and..."

"You got it because James Bond had one." She interrupted smoothly.

Chuck paused. "Pretty much, yeah."

"That's my nerd." Laughing, she leaned over and gave Chuck a peck on the cheek. "Okay, 007. Let's get going. Our next stop is gonna be a tricky one."

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A half-hour later, a beautiful woman with chestnut brown hair walked up to the nursing station in the cardio-thoracic wing of Harbor-UCLA Medical Center, her pale yellow sundress fluttering gently. Giving the young man working there a dazzling smile, she subtly leaned over the counter.

"Uhh..." He stammered for half a second. "Can I help you?"

"I hope so," She practically purred. "I'm looking for Dr. Devon Woodcombe."

"Oh." The young nurse cleared his throat, a faint look of disappointment crossing his face. "I'm sorry, but he's not here. He's been on a leave of absence for the last couple of weeks."

"Darn." The woman replied, one hand playing idly with the neckline of her dress. "I guess I'll have to try him at home, then. Thank you."

"Anytime." He croaked, as she turned and walked away.

Around the corner, Chuck emerged from beside a supply shelf and fell into pace beside her. Smiling, he turned to face her. "Was all that really necessary? We could've just called."

"Yes." She replied, sticking out her tongue playfully. "That was way more fun than calling ahead."

Chuckling, he once more slung his arm around her shoulder. "Fair enough. Where to now?"

"Home sweet home."

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Entering the familiar apartment complex, Chuck felt a slight shiver run down his back. While he and Sarah had been sweeping the place for surveillance equipment, he'd actually been excited to go home. While he was impressing Sarah by putting the few cameras and listening devices on a recursive loop, repeating the last 24 hours of captured audio/video, he'd been wondering if his room had been left the same.

Now that he was here, though, he couldn't help the feeling of guilt that washed over him.

The last time he'd been here, he'd escaped certain death by drugging two of the closest people in his life, one of them being the woman beside him. And judging by the tensing in her shoulders, she remembered that day, too.

"I'm sorry." He said suddenly, as they approached the door on his old apartment. At her startled gaze, he clarified. "I never apologized for what happened that day. If there'd been another way..."

She silenced him with a gentle hand over his mouth. "Shh. You did the right thing, Chuck. I was never mad at you."

She leaned forward and kissed him. "Now, let's go recruit your brother-in-law."

Smiling again, Chuck stepped forward and knocked on the door, eager to see Captain Awesome again. When no one answered, he knocked again, a bit more loudly. Inside, they could hear someone moving around. Whoever it was, they sounded like they were running into every stationary object on the way, too.

Finally, the sound of the deadbolt opening greeted their ears. When the door opened, however, it was all Chuck could do not to retch at the smell of burnt food and booze that wafted over him. Rubbing his eyes to clear his vision, he was shocked to see Devon Woodcombe standing there in a stained bathrobe, blinking owlishly in the sunlight and looking like he hadn't showered, let alone shaved, at all in the last two weeks.

"Holy crap, Devon." Chuck cried before he could top himself. "You look terrible!"

"Your sister left me for a goddamn nurse. How the fuck would you look?" Devon gave Chuck a fierce look, swaying precariously on his feet. "And why haven't you done the freaking dishes?"

"Uhh…" Chuck blinked, unable to formulate a response.

Devon's eyes narrowed, and a look of confusion appeared on his features. "Wait a minute...didn't you disappear a while ago?"

Without waiting for an answer, though, Devon chose that moment to belch loudly, once more treating Chuck and Sarah to the lovely smell of second hand whiskey. Then his eyes rolled back, and releasing his tenuous grasp on consciousness he keeled backward right there in the doorway.

Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Chuck shook his head. "Super."

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It was a couple of hours before the combination of extremely strong coffee (and being forcibly held under a cold shower) had Devon back among the living. He may not have been in the most chipper of moods, but at least he was awake.

So as Sarah threw together breakfast in the kitchen, he and Chuck sat in the dimly lit living room and got each other caught up.

"So, just to summarize," Devon muttered. "Sarah is a CIA agent, you've got a government computer in your brain, and Ellie didn't actually leave me because she was kidnapped by the Government?"

"That about sums it up."

"And now we're gonna go rescue her from a secure government building?"

"Yup." Chuck nodded. "I realize this is a lot to take in..."

"Actually it makes a lot of sense." Devon countered, rubbing his eyes. "The late nights, the unexplained injuries, to say nothing of the sheer bizarreness of you getting a smokin' hot babe like Sarah. The whole spy thing pretty much explains that."

"Hey!"

"Just sayin' it like it is, bro. Doesn't make her love you any less."

'Damn skippy!" Sarah agreed from the kitchen, drawing odd looks from both men.

Shaking his head, Devon turned back to Chuck. "So what's the move?"

Chuck fell back into his seat. "The hell if I know. We are so outclassed right now that I'm not sure my plan is gonna work."

"What is this mysterious plan, anyway?"

"Well, we're going to be meeting up with another CIA agent today, Bryce Larkin." Chuck explained. "The last e-mail I got from him said he was in LA, so I told him to come here. Literally hiding right under the CIA's nose."

"And this is the same Bryce who got you kicked out of Stanford?"

"Err...yeah. But there's some backstory there. I'll fill you in later." Chuck assured him. "So anyway, after we have Bryce, the basic plan is to extract Ellie with as little fuss as possible, and get you two out of the country."

"That's the plan?" Devon asked sceptically.

"That's the gist of the plan, yeah. Bryce and Sarah are gonna help with the brainstorming when he gets here. Iron out the details."

"So all we need is this Bryce character?"

"Well, him and someone who can hack into a secured CIA mainframe computer."

"I could do that." Anna's voice piped up from the door, scaring both men out of their brains.

"Whatthehell!?" Chuck leaped from his chair. "What are you doing here?! You could what now?! We weren't talking about anything!"

Framed in the open door, Anna crossed her arms and cocked one hip to the side. "I'm here to pick up Morgan. And frankly I'd be asking you the same question, Mr. Vanishing Act, if I hadn't overheard your little CIA story."

"Oh, that?" Chuck smiled nervously. "That was just a story. All made up."

"Yeah right, Chuck." Anna grinned. "Like you could get a girl like Sarah any way other than international espionage."

"Hey!"

"Valid point, bro." Devon cut in.

"Hi, Anna." Sarah chose that moment to walk in, a plate full of sizzling bacon in one hand and a plate of eggs in the other. Ignoring Chuck's longing looks, she placed both plates in from of Devon, handed him a fork, and commanded. "Eat."

The hung over cardiologist nodded meekly, and immediately tucked into his oversized breakfast. Sarah moved over to stand beside Anna, and pretended not to notice when Chuck's hand darted out to snag a strip of bacon. The second attempt, however, earned him a solid slap on the wrist.

"So?" Anna focused her gaze on Devon. "Where exactly is my boyfriend?"

Devon looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'm not sure. I remember he came over for a drink and to see if I was okay, then things get fuzzy...er."

Anna huffed and rolled her eyes. "MORGAN!!"

There was a brief silence, and then a long, low moan drifted in from the kitchen. They collectively followed the sound, and after a brief search discovered Morgan passed out under the sink, clutching a tequila bottle to his chest.

"I said it before, and I'll say it again." Chuck sighed. "Super."

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Getting Morgan sobered up proved much easier than their experience with Devon. After all, the smaller man's alcohol binge had only lasted for the a few hours, rather than the last fortnight.

"Ugghhh...Anna?" He groaned, peering up at his slightly pissed off girlfriend. "What happened?"

"You and Devon decided to play a rousing game of 'Drink The Beer'." She told him, perhaps a little louder than she needed to. "You both lost."

"Amen to that." Devon muttered from his place on the couch.

"Oh." He replied simply, lifting an arm over his eyes.

"Jeez, buddy." Chuck commented. "I thought we talked about your tequila issues."

"I know, man, but..." Morgan froze mid-sentence. Despite his headache, he bolted upwards, eyes wide with shock. "Chuck!?!"

"Yup." The Ex Nerd Herder quipped.

Ignoring his hangover, Morgan leaped from his seat, throwing himself into Chuck's arms. "Oh my god, dude! I thought I'd never see you again!

'S'okay, little buddy." Chuck assured him, patting him on the back. "I'm right here."

Despite the guy code, in all its translations, tears began to slip from Morgan's eyes. "But you vanished, man. You were gone!"

"I know. I had to do it. It's kind of a long story."

Morgan sniffled for a moment, and then pulled away. "I've got time, man. Let's hear it."

Chuck peered at him for a moment, and then nodded. "Okay, Morgan. This is what's been going on the last couple years..."

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"Whoa." Morgan muttered. "Heavy."

"I know, bro." Devon commented.

"Take a second if you need to." Sarah told him.

"No." Morgan replied. "It actually makes perfect sense. With this whole CIA thing in the mix, Chuck getting you as a girlfriend makes so much more sense."

'Hey!"

"C'mon, Chuck." Anna piped up.

"Yeah, bro." Devon added.

"This is so unfair." Chuck muttered.

"Their opinion? Maybe." Sarah cut in. "But look at the bright side."

Chuck crooked an eyebrow.

"I love you." Sarah reminded him, smiling. "No matter what."

Grinning, Chuck threw an arm around her shoulders and drew her close. "The lady makes a good point. We'll go with that."

"More importantly, though," Morgan piped up, once more drawing everyone's attention. "How are we gonna save Ellie?"

"Well, it's like I said, we're waiting for Bryce." Chuck reminded him.

"I thought you hated that guy?"

"That's not the point."

"And we still need a way into their systems." Sarah added.

"I could do that." Anna volunteered.

"Anna, I'm sure you're very good, but..." Sarah began.

"I could probably break through their security in about seven minutes." She continued, unabated. "Less if I had a hard connection."

"What?" Chuck gaped. "Seriously? Since when?"

"High school." The small Asian girl shrugged. "Got into the Pentagon once, but it was boring, so I left. Lost my virginity the same night, though."

Now it was Sarah's turn to look stunned. "The Pentagon? In the same night? What?"

"What can I say?" Anna purred, pressing against Morgan. "Cracking high-security systems really does it for me."

Morgan blinked, and turned to Chuck. "Dude, you've gotta let us help!"

"Absolutely not!" A voice cried from the doorway.

Bryce stood in the doorway, a gun in one hand, and some kind of jamming device in the other. "Chuck, why the hell did you want to meet here? This is the first place they're gonna look for you! Are you insane?!"

"Christ! Doesn't anybody knock anymore?" Chuck asked, turning his eyes skyward. "Hi, Bryce. How are you? I'm good, except for that whole kidnapped sister thing. Hungry?"

Bryce just gaped at Chuck for a long moment, a bewildered expression on his face.

Chuck laughed softly. "Relax, man. I took care of the surveillance systems, and avoided the van 'o agents. As far as their concerned, the only person in here is Devon in the middle of a bender."

"You what?" The deep-cover operative asked.

"I tricked the cameras. Their systems say we're not here, and in light of that, the safest place to hide really is right under their noses."

"Whoa. The Intersect really changed you, didn't it?"

"Yeah, you could say that." Chuck replied, sarcasm tingeing his voice. "Now sit down. Since you've finally shown up, we can do a little solid planning."

"We?" Bryce choked, gesturing at Morgan. "You brought in the Ewok on this?"

"Hey!" Morgan objected. "If you must, I prefer Wookie."

"Because that's so much better." The spy muttered rolling his eyes.

"We've got his girlfriend, too." Chuck added.

"And that's meant to reassure me?"

"Better than nothing." Sarah shrugged. "We'll need all the help we can get."

"So play nice." Anna snapped, though her smile never faltered.

Defeated, Bryce sunk into the nearest chair, and listened to this ragtag version of an operations team plan the mission that'd likely get them all killed, or worse.

It was just as well he lived for this shit.

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End Part 3


End file.
